Chapter 39 A New Child of Fate
On the east market street of Qingyang City, a man had set up a simple wooden table. A sheet of yellowed rice paper was spread on it, and beside it stood a crooked wooden sign that read: "Word divination and fortune-telling, 10 taels for adults, free for youths."
Passersby cast strange glances, some whispering with a sneer, "Another swindler from the streets."
"Specializes in tricking children, that's new."
This man was, of course, Chen Chang'an, who had only recently entered the city.
As for the surrounding remarks, he turned a deaf ear, leisurely grinding his ink.
At the moment, he wore a faded blue long robe. His face was lean, appearing in his early 30s, but his eyes were especially bright, as if they could see through a person's heart.
"Uncle, is it really free?" A thin boy of about 12 or 13 years old stood timidly in front of the table.
Chen Chang'an looked up and smiled. "Of course. What word do you want me to divine?"
"I… I want the word 'xue' for learning." The boy bit his lip and scrawled the character crookedly on the paper.
Chen Chang'an gazed at the word, and in his eyes appeared a half-transparent system panel that only he could see:
[Zhao Xiao Liu]
Cultivation: Mortal
Potential: 5 [average human level]
Fate: 25 [may become a minor official in the future?]
Loyalty: 0 [stranger]
Personality: Diligent, steady
He sighed softly. Not to mention being a child of fate, this was already the 7th child today with no cultivation aptitude whatsoever.
"You are diligent and love to learn. You will surely achieve something in the future." Chen Chang'an spoke a kind lie, taking a piece of malt candy from his sleeve and handing it to the boy. "Remember, reading more is always good."
The boy ran off happily. Watching his back, Chen Chang'an thought to himself, The talent for cultivating immortality in this world is even rarer than I imagined.
But then he reconsidered. In this world, cultivation talent was mostly inherited, concentrated within great clans and sects. Beyond that, there was the Great Zhou—a unified immortal cultivator dynasty.
So naturally, those among mortals with talent were extremely few.
What he was doing now was no different from searching for a needle in the sea.
However, after surviving alone in a valley for 500 years until reaching the Saint Realm, Chen Chang'an was hardly a man lacking patience. With the system in his possession, to a child of fate, was he not akin to one of those guiding old masters?
Perhaps they might even attract one another, he thought with satisfaction.
By midday, the street was gradually filling with more people. Several richly dressed youths emerged from a restaurant, crowding around a brocade-robed young master. He looked about 16 or 17, wore a jade pendant at his waist, and held a folding fan, his manner arrogant.
"Young Master Zhang, look over there—someone telling fortunes, and giving free divinations for children!" A servant pointed toward Chen Chang'an, laughing.
Young Master Zhang narrowed his eyes. "Oh? That is unusual. Let's go have a look."
The crowd parted to make way. Chen Chang'an looked up and saw a brocade-robed youth standing before the table, looking down at him with a condescending gaze.
If Han Yu were present, he would surely recognize this Young Master Zhang as the leading brocade-clad youth they had met once during the sect entrance trials.
"I hear your word divination is accurate?" Young Master Zhang's tone carried clear disdain. "Do one for me."
Chen Chang'an's gaze lingered briefly on the youth's face, and the system panel unfolded:
[Zhang Minghao]
Cultivation: Early Stage Object Manipulation Realm
Potential: 25 [inferior-grade water spiritual root]
Fate: 0 [on the brink of death, you'll have to fend for yourself]
Loyalty: 0 [stranger]
Personality: Confident, arrogant
"Write a word," Chen Chang'an said, pushing the paper and brush forward.
Young Master Zhang gave a cold laugh and casually wrote the character "Zhang," the strokes forceful yet tinged with hostility.
Chen Chang'an studied the character and said slowly, "'Zhang' splits into 'bow' and 'long.' The bow is drawn full, the long arrow is ready to fly, but you do not know where the arrow points. Young Master, you may face a blood calamity soon. It would be wise to remain indoors and avoid action."
"Nonsense!" Young Master Zhang slammed the table, making the inkstone jump and spill ink across the paper. "I am the legitimate grandson of the Zhang Clan of Qingyang. Who would dare touch me? You street swindler, trying to scare me for money?"
The surrounding attendants burst into laughter. A tall, thin one mocked, "Young Master, is this low-class trickery even worthy of giving you a word divination?"
Chen Chang'an calmly wiped the ink splattered on his hand and said lightly, "Word divination is free. Whether you believe it or not is up to you."
Young Master Zhang gave a cold snort. Before leaving, he flicked his sleeve and kicked over the water jar beside Chen Chang'an's table. Water spilled across the ground, reflecting a shattered sky.
"Forget it, no need to argue with a dead man," Chen Chang'an shook his head, tidying the disturbed table.
People are like that—no matter how bad their temper, they show extra tolerance toward someone in the late stages of cancer.
Moreover, he had no interest in Young Master Zhang's so-called "on the brink of death." His last experience in Fu'an City had been trouble enough, and he was someone who disliked trouble.
As the sun sank in the west, the street gradually emptied. Chen Chang'an packed away his paper and brush, ready to end the day's divinations.
Just then, a figure stepped in front of him, blocking the last rays of sunlight.
"Sir, can you divine a word for me?"
The voice was clear and bright, carrying the unique vigor of youth.
Chen Chang'an looked up to see a boy of about 15.
The boy's appearance was ordinary, his clothes simple, but his eyes were unusually bright, holding an indescribable brilliance.
Chen Chang'an's heart gave a strange jolt. He spread out the rice paper again. "What word do you want?"
The boy thought for a moment, then wrote the character "Han."
When the word fell onto the paper, the system panel before Chen Chang'an's eyes suddenly flickered violently, golden text flowing like water:
[Han Yu]
Cultivation: Mortal [just developed qi sense]
Potential: 28 [inferior-grade five-element spiritual root]
Fate: 100 [child of fate, turning misfortune into blessing]
Loyalty: 0 [stranger]
Personality: Resolute, cautious
Chen Chang'an's hand trembled slightly, a drop of ink falling onto the paper and spreading into a dark blot.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the shock in his heart, and looked up at this seemingly ordinary boy.
The sunset's afterglow fell upon the youth, outlining him in a golden halo.
Chen Chang'an knew—the "child of fate" he had been searching for had finally appeared.
Even his eldest disciple, Xiao Chen, only had 85 in fate. Yet the boy before him had a full score!
As for potential?
In the face of absolute fate, everything could be changed—it would simply mean taking a few more detours.
And Chen Chang'an was precisely willing to help the child of fate before him avoid many, many of those detours.
On the condition that the other party could become his next disciple.
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